Sharpe's Healer
by Squeebo
Summary: SLASH. Sharpe/OC.  AU. Chasseur is in the 95th and finds himself inexplicably drawn to the Major, despite his dislike. Based more upon the Television Series than the book, but I couldn't find it in the categories.
1. Chapter 1

The air was warm, tainted with blood and gunpowder, the rest of the soldiers were in a group around a large fire, cheering and drinking, as if the afternoon's meagre win was some triumph of man.  
>I chose to stay by my tent, polishing my boots, cleaning my rifle, making sure that everything is prepared, everything perfect.<br>"Charlie?"  
>The use of that awful nickname indicated that Major Sharpe was relaxed and wanted to talk with me as an equal, not as his subordinate, which allowed me to not respond to him, I continued to polish my boots.<br>He gave a noise of exasperation, he knew I had no liking of him, his command, his entire attitude grinds on my nerves and I must fight myself not to say a bad word in his presence.  
>"Greene."<br>I would continue to polish, but instead I put the boot down and turn to face him.  
>"Sir?"<br>He regards me with some irritation, but he pushes on.  
>"Can I join you?"<br>"Of course, sir."  
>He sits across from me on the ground, legs crossed at the ankles, elbows on his knees and hands joined in front of him, such a lout, not a soldier, certainly not a Major.<br>"You're focused, Greene, I like that."  
>"Thank you, sir."<br>"That's all well and good, Greene, but you've alienated yourself from the rest of the company." He paused. "Your accent doesn't help, either."  
>Now I see, I am not as able to disguise my voice as well as the others, the traces of a French accent must make them mistrust me, and when I choose not to interact, I seem to be more suspicious.<br>"Do you believe me to be a spy?"  
>"No one's saying that, Charles."<br>His honesty is unmistakeable, no, no one has said it, at least to him. They think it, and I know they do because I have heard the words as if they have said them to me.  
>"They'd be less suspicious if you'd get involved."<br>"Involved? Sir, I cannot get involved in a shallow victory!"  
>Then I felt a sharp sting across my face, he had struck me, he had stood and I had fallen, I hadn't sensed it through anger, his anger seemed to match and surpass my own.<br>"Understand this; these men deserve to celebrate every victory they get, no matter how small. Get your head out of your arse and act like a bloody soldier."  
>I felt ashamed, embarrassed, I could see the rest of the soldiers approaching cautiously, hoping for a fight. I could kill him easily... All I can find myself looking at is his feet, his boots dirty, months of blood and dust layered on them.<br>"Greene?"  
>Commanding a response from me, I despised him and I hoped he could see it in my eyes when I looked up at him. His own were wide, fueled, ready to fight. I look away from him again, I hate to submit...<br>"Yes."  
>"Yes?"<br>"Yes, Major Sharpe."


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was at it's highest when the enemy came, although we expected it, the heat made us weak and we struggled to defeat the deserters that had attacked us, we suffered a loss, and three casualties, with Sergeant Harper badly wounded we we forced to find shelter and set up camp.  
>The company truly suffered with the heat and I took it upon myself to help the wounded, healing them slowly to avoid suspicion and allowing them to rest.<br>Sergeant Harper was still resting when I returned to see him once the sun had set and the air began to cool, as I was tending to his wounds, I heard the soft, slightly limping footsteps of Sharpe.  
>"How is he?"<br>"He'll live. The heat doesn't help, but a good amount of sleep should help him."  
>He was quiet, his tension was evident, his hand squeezed my shoulder.<br>"Thank you."  
>He turned to leave, but I stood and stopped him.<br>"You're limping. Sit."  
>"It's fine, I've had worse."<br>"I said sit."  
>He rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of an empty bunk, stretching out his wounded leg. I could see the circle of blood staining his trousers, and when I tried to lift the material from his skin, he winced.<br>"It's been left too long already."  
>I did not think the Major would be so stupid regarding his own health, I tore the material from the knee, he complained, but quietened once he saw the mess of blood and the open wound.<br>"I'll fix them when you're resting." I clean the wound, pressing a bit harder than was necessary, quietly enjoying his pained sound.  
>"You're a tailor as well as a Doctor?"<br>Sarcasm is most unbecoming, but I force a laugh, he relaxes, I pick up the roll of bandage and begin to wrap it around his shin.  
>"Just a scrape." I explained to him, distracting him from the slight healing glow. "A ricochet probably, nothing to extract."<br>"Good."  
>I finished, and tore the bandage, tying it off and putting the bandage to one side.<br>"Thanks again, Charles."

I left. It probably seemed abrupt to the Major, but I had to leave quickly.  
>Since I had travelled with the 95th the smell of blood had not bothered me in any way, after battle, in the medical tent, fixing wounds on the move... but Sharpe's blood... once I was in my tent I breathed deeply, I could only smell the dry canvas and the dust on the ground, thankfully, his scent had not lingered.<br>This was becoming risky.  
>I knelt next to my bunk and clasped my hands, often I had seen the other soldiers doing so, 'a quick prayer before bed' they would explain, and they would continue to ask their god for his blessings in all manner of things and ask him to watch over their families.<br>As odd as I thought it, I adopted it now, I needed guidance and help. I just hoped I was not too far away.  
><em>Can you hear me?<br>"Quietly, as if a whisper, but yes, Chasseur, I can hear you."  
>Majesty, I think my position has been compromised, I need your reassurance...<br>"What has happened to make you so troubled?"  
>I have not tasted human flesh for years, I have not craved it even when it has been readily available...<br>"You have shown strength where no others could."_  
>I sighed. <em>I have healed many wounds and the blood has not affected me, but the Major's... I felt such craving, such a strong desire deep in my core.<br>__"Hm. Chasseur, if he is a strong man his blood will also be strong, you must be stronger to resist it, to resist him."  
>What if I can't... what if I cannot help myself?<em>  
>There was a warm sound, not quite a laugh. It reassures me.<br>_"You will not hurt -"_  
>"Greene!"<br>Startled, I stand, caught off guard, I never heard Sharpe enter my tent, despite the anger in his tone.  
>"Explain!"<br>It took a moment for me to realise exactly what he wanted to explain, but then I noticed, his leg wound was gone, I had healed it completely without meaning to.  
>"What did you do?"<br>"I bandaged-"  
>"The bandage was completely clean." He threw it at me as proof, bloodless. "I saw the wound, but now there's not even a scar. What did you do?"<br>I could not understand the expression on his face, anger, yes, I could feel that without searching, but something I couldn't place...  
>"I -"<br>"And why haven't you done it to Harper?"  
>Then I saw it all, sadness, fear and anger, he hated me for healing him over the Sergeant, angry with me for the same reason, but feared me overall. I felt the same rush as before, stronger with every heartbeat.<br>Then he steps further in and sits on my bunk, all anger dissipated, nothing but sadness.  
>"Could you do it?"<br>"Sir?"  
>"He's not only my Sergeant, he's my friend."<br>I stand, then crouch in front of him, my hands on his shoulders, I hold his gaze and in his eyes I see nothing but pain, the uncertainty of another settling on top of it all.  
>"He'll be fine, sir. I promise."<br>He sighs and his eyes close, his sadness lifts, if only a little, he bows his head and takes a few relieved breaths. He raises his head again, a curious expression causing his brow to crease.  
>"What <em>did<em> you do?"  
>I let my hands drop, honesty, they say, is the best policy.<br>"I healed your wound."  
>"How?"<br>"I don't know." I had never thought on it before. "I've always been able to do it."  
>"Could you-"<br>"I have. With Harper and everyone, just slowly, so that it looks more like they're healing on their own."  
>"It couldn't go wrong could it?"<br>"No."  
>He smiled, rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezed, a friendly gesture, it made my heart drum faster than ever. I cannot lose composure now... this would be disastrous.<br>"Are you alright?"  
>I felt another squeeze at my shoulder, his eyes trying to meet with mine.<br>"Charles?"  
>Then I felt it, an audible snap somewhere in my being and I leapt for him. I felt him struggling before I realised exactly what I was doing, I felt his hair under my hand and between my fingers, his shirt bunched into my fist, the sound of his complaints against my mouth.<p>

As I held my lips to his there was a moment of calm, as if that deep craving was satisfied, but it did not last, I felt it still, a rushing wave, bringing my heart further forward in my chest.  
>I pushed myself further upon him, deepening the kiss, tasting his lips, pushing my tongue to meet his. He stilled, his grabbing and pushing hands rested on my back, I shivered as I felt him lift his jaw slightly, returning the kiss, his tongue passing softly over my own.<br>I feel a sudden rush of cool air against my skin, his hand swiftly replaces it, my skin seeming to tremor from the contact, he must feel it, because he makes a noise in his throat and pulls hard at my jacket.  
>I break the kiss and lean back, panting, for the first time since his sadness, our eyes meet, and I may as well be looking at a completely different person, his eyes were burning, watching me, his chest rising and falling beneath his loose white shirt.<p>

I remove my jacket, loosen my own shirt when he leans forward and assists me, his hand purposefully stroking over my skin as he helps push the material up and over my head. It is thrown aside and we make short work of removing his, I touch his skin, smooth, scarred in places and ruined by the sun, but for this moment, perfect.  
>I lean to him and I taste a scar just below his collarbone, my lips brush the ridge of the bone and follow it with kisses, he groans again, his neck arching, and I follow the tendons, I can feel his blood rushing beneath his skin, almost taste it with each lasting kiss.<br>Our lips meet again, once, then we look.  
>While his eyes held mine captive, his hands were stroking down my back, carving a determined path and leaving a tingle in their wake, one thumb slips into the waistband of my breeches, the other slips around to my stomach, and I shiver as the hand presses at my arousal.<p>

"Sir..."  
>My plea goes unfinished as his mouth captures mine, his hand opening and pushing into my breeches, his careful hand, soft fingers touching, making my breath hitch, my body jerk.<br>I feel him smile, that smug, self-satisfied, lop-sided smile on my skin as he presses his face to my shoulder.  
>I groan as he holds me, moving his hand slowly, I shiver with each movement, my breaths broken and ragged, I cling to him, unable to talk but trying to coax him to move just a bit faster.<br>His grip tightens, and suddenly I cannot breathe at all, my fingers gripping hard at his shoulders, I hear him hiss slightly in pain, but he continues, his hand moving faster, my shivering unceasing, my breath short, hitching, my lungs and body burning for release.  
>I groan once more, and his mouth is on me again, swallowing my every cry as pleasure overwhelms me, my body suffering violent, uncontrollable shudders with every pulse of orgasm.<p>

He shifts and pulls me up, lying us both on the small cot, he kisses at my jaw, and I kiss back lazily when he reaches my mouth.  
>I feel my eyes beginning to close in tiredness and I welcome the removal of my boots and breeches, kicking weakly as the material is tangled around my feet.<br>Sharpe laughs lightly, and there's a moment of rustling before I feel him settle between my thighs, a hand stroking softly over my thighs and knees, he slides them up and lifts my hips.  
>"Sir...?"<br>One hand at my hip squeezes, that reassuring gesture, this time it sends a weak ripple of pleasure through my body and makes me calm, I sigh, closing my eyes and feel him settle closer, his arousal pressing at my backside.  
>Then there is a pain I had never known before as he enters me slowly, my body shudders as it resists, my breath catches and falls and I close my eyes tight.<br>He pushes intermittently, grunting each time, heat rolled over me from his body, I could sense his need through my pain, I wondered briefly if he knew how much this hurt.  
>I could feel him pause and I looked up at him, he was breathing heavily, head bowed, eyes closed, he opens them again and looks at me, his mouth slack and lips moist, he leans forward, the movement causing him to move in me, and kisses me.<br>As his breath slows, he begins to move, my body jerks against the unknown feeling, the weird sensation of having another being inside of me.  
>His movements soon quicken, and I find myself gasping involuntarily, moaning softly, pleasure beginning to build quickly as he deepens his thrusts.<br>I feel a shock of pleasure through my spine and call out, arching my back and pressing down against him, he is caught off guard and he groans, leaning and kissing me again, the movement making me moan against his mouth.  
>He moves faster, moaning desperately, his hands grasping hard at my backside, pulling me down harder onto him, pleasure shooting through my spine with each inward thrust.<br>I shout out as he pushes in hard, his body shuddering through me, he moans with pleasure and  
>I feel his climax striking just as mine ends.<br>His movements slow and he lays over me, a lazy kiss is pressed against my neck and I listen as his breathing and his heartbeat slow to a more normal pace, my own calming swiftly.

I could no longer hate the Major.  
>I left him asleep in my tent as I stood out by the dead fire, looking up at the stars, my heart was aching.<br>I found her star, it still blinked and burned brighter than the others. My tears ran freely, I may never forgive myself for this.  
><em>"She forgives you."<em>  
>The Queen's voice is soft, caring, she would know, after all.<br>_I loved her so, Majesty.  
>"One can only mourn for so long, Chasseur. A century is long enough."<em>  
>I nod and I return to the tent, the young Major still fast asleep, I strip back down and lie with him, his arm drapes across my chest.<p>

_But I will not love another human again._


	3. Chapter 3

At once I knew I could not allow this charade to continue, the message came to me one day, about noon, when we were camped and resting before what we expected would be a large conflict.  
>Unrivalled skills in marksmanship.<br>If that is such a gift, why do they wish to remove me from the battlefield? Why have me watch over some pompous self-proclaimed leader, who will do nothing for his people.  
>I thought it ludicrous to become a guard to the King, skills in marksmanship notwithstanding.<br>I have put my pride aside for this farce long enough, I will not let it suffer this blow.  
>I have much to plan.<br>Sharpe approached me once the messenger had left.  
>"Everything alright, Charlie?"<br>I look to him, the others gathered, quiet, all listening. For once I had tried to form some sort of bond with the company, and once it is strong, I am summoned away.  
>"Yes sir."<br>He reads my mood, he possibly expects the worst, and his tone softens.  
>"What was that about?"<br>"King's guard."  
>He was silent.<br>"What?"  
>"I've been summoned to join the royal guard."<br>He smiled, something I had not seen from him lately.  
>"Well about bloody time!"<br>He slapped my shoulder, congratulatory, my eyes catch his and his smile drops. Clearly, he knows this is not good news for me.  
>Then he squeezes at my shoulder lightly, that familiar gesture, and he gives me a reassuring smile, and walks away.<br>I hear him say a quick word to the others, their group disbands and none of them speak with  
>me for the rest of that day.<p>

The evening when I returned to my tent, he was waiting for me, lying on the small bed, his eyes on me as soon as I entered, his gaze all hunger, a soft, warm smell of arousal coming off him gently.  
>My chest tightened with the scent, my heart beginning to beat a little faster.<br>"Major."  
>He says nothing, but relaxes further, one hand resting behind his head, the other settling on his stomach, the action makes his shirt rise, revealing a small strip of skin.<br>I could not give in to him, I had things to plan.  
>I turned from him and removed my jacket, better to relax, I heard him get up and take the small steps needed to close the gap between us.<br>"Not speaking to me, eh?"  
>"I have things to think about."<br>"You sound tired, Charlie."  
>One hand rested on my shoulder, the other at my waist, tentative, waiting for my response, but ultimately there.<br>"I had nothing to do with it, Charlie."  
>The man was so honest when he thought he was going to lose something, his honesty and sexuality go hand-in-hand, it seems.<br>"I never said you had, sir."  
>"Oh don't give me that."<br>He made some noise of annoyance and moved away. My skin felt cold and I turned to face him. My heart beat even harder, he sat back on the bed, looking at me, slight anger in his eyes.  
>I sighed and I sat with him.<br>"Sorry, Sharpe."  
>"Not happy about being transferred, eh?"<br>"It's a waste. I should be here, fighting."  
>"The 95th needs you."<br>His tone softens, touching me softly again, his hand on my stomach, untucking my shirt as he leans in, pressing his lips to my neck.  
>I began to feel it was more than the 95th who needed me at that time, I felt disgusted, but my chest ached, my stomach was in tangles, I could not feel this way, not for another human, not again.<br>I would have to end this at the next battle, no matter how small.  
>A small moan escaped me as he caught my earlobe with his teeth, I closed my eyes and I felt a soft breath of a laugh against my neck.<br>"I knew you'd give in."  
>"I shan't this time." He stops, I feel myself smiling. "<em>Sir<em>."  
>Before he has a chance to reply, I push him down, flat against the bed, holding his hands tight to the straw-filled mattress.<br>"Are you mocking me?"  
>"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."<br>I kissed him heavily, feeling a lip bruise, either mine or his, I did not care which. He groaned and arched up against me, I released his hands and undressed him, I laid a kiss at every newly revealed piece of flesh, every scar. I would never forget this body.  
>"God, Charlie -"<br>I kissed down his chest, his stomach, his hips were slightly pronounced, and the kisses I laid there, long, slow, licking, made him gasp as if he were taking his last breaths.  
>When I stopped he raised himself to look at me, his face flushed, sweat still lingering from the Spanish heat, eyes dark with arousal, his mouth slightly open, panting breaths pushing past his lips.<br>His hands reached for me, but I pushed them away, ignoring his questioning expression and slid lower down his body. The last look I caught of him made me grin, some sort of shocked look, surprised and overwhelmed, before I lowered my head and took him in.  
>He had sat bolt upright, his hands grabbing at my hair while he gasps praises, his body shivering in pleasure as I taste him, relishing every sound he makes when I run my tongue over his length, the way his breath stops when I take him in all at once.<br>When he grasps at my shirt, I stop and look at him, chest heaving, eyes shut tight, slack-lipped and sweating.  
>As I moved away, pulling his hands from me, he whimpered, a sound that I had never expected to hear from the Major, it made something in me jolt and it was all I wanted to hear.<br>I push him back against the bed, his hands up by his shoulders, and I kiss him once more, he moans and arches against me desperately, his entire body arching for further contact, my own arousal aching with the anticipation.  
>I move my hands to his shoulders, break the kiss, for a moment there is stillness, a breath, a heartbeat, and then I twist him around, he shouts with surprise and is quickly silenced as I hold him onto his front.<br>I stroke down his back, from his shoulders to his waist, I see his scars from the lashes, crimes committed against his uniform and paid for, I hold his hips, he gasps and his body stills, a moment's hesitation in us both.

I press against him, a shock of heat coursing through me at the contact, I felt a groan building in my stomach, as I pushed in I felt it moving up through my chest, when my thighs met his skin it finally escaped my throat.  
>I felt him tense, I could barely hear his sounds over the rushing of my own blood, my own thumping heart, my entire body craved this contact, this unknown, consuming heat. I moved, leaning over him to press deeper, every inward movement pushing groans of pleasure from me, I moved more and more to keep this wondrous heat over me, desperately grasping, pressed over his back, clawing for further contact.<br>Then he shouted, his body shuddering violently, the sensation shook through me and the orgasm that followed had me blinded.

I fell to his side, delirious and exhausted, I saw his face, sweating, a smile upon it, his voice sounded far away as he spoke to me.  
>"... hate to see you after some good."<br>I was puzzled, it made my delirium lessen as I forced myself to respond. "Pardon?"  
>"I said if that's how you react to bad news, I'd hate to see you after some good."<br>"Oh."  
>I had forgotten. In that moment I had forgotten everything, even him, only now I think I may have hurt him, now do I remember that tomorrow will be my last battle with him.<br>He is already asleep, and I do my best to sleep as fitfully as he.

~~~

We set off later for another nameless hill, another small battle, my last with the 95th.

I remember hearing Sharpe's voice, commanding, I could see them all fighting, but I could not join them.  
>I stood and waited. The only time I have not joined in the fray, but if I am to leave, this is the only way.<br>"Greene!"  
>I hear him call for me, that panicked shout, and I see him running, sword drawn, the enemy soldier advancing, screaming, gun raised.<br>His sword clashed with the rifle barrel, forcing it away, the Frenchman stumbled back, then advanced, Sharpe kicked him back.  
>I grabbed his shoulders and turned, forcing him away, leaving the enemy unharmed, he looked at me, bewildered, I had no time to explain, as I did not want to, but the enemy's gun was at my back before I could turn and face my death, my eyes met Sharpe's, he ran forward again, but too slow.<br>The blast was the loudest thing I had ever heard, when it finally stopped, so did all other sound, I realised I had not hit the ground, but Sharpe had caught me, one arm supporting me, the other holding his rifle, blasting a hole through the Frenchman's chest.  
>I could see a few other soldiers, I felt lifted, floating to a cool shade somewhere, I see them, they're moving their mouths but I cannot hear them, I feel those hands, strong, familiar hands, squeezing at my shoulders.<br>I feel a little disgusted at dying in his arms like some romantic novel, but if this is how dying must be, then this is how I must do it.  
>I watch his mouth as my vision fades, Charlie. I hated that name, I will change it when I wake up, when I am free of this army.<br>Then I see the sadness in Sharpe's eyes, the grip at my shoulder, that sadness makes my chest ache, before I realize, I am crying... this must be what happens when one dies... his hand wipes at my face, sparing my dignity, his hand lingers on my cheek. It is better to end this way.  
>"Sorry... sir..."<br>There is a feeling like water in my throat and I cough to clear it, I can see him replying, but I find myself unable to make out the words he is forming, my mind begins to clear, I forget where my feet are... I feel as if it is night... I close my eyes, and I can hear him.  
>"You can't leave me, Charlie..."<br>"...I have to..."


	4. Chapter 4

Several winters passed, I could not recall exactly how many, but on the farm, I learned of peace.  
>Neither could I recall how I came to be at this place, I remember walking from the harbour, resting at an inn for a few days until I was completely healed, it took longer than I would have liked as the food was terrible.<br>I left there in the winter, so that the night's protective darkness would fall sooner and hide me in my true form, making my journey much quicker.

Then the snow fell, not quite blizzards but enough to push me from my path, I came to this farmhouse, with a strong and sturdy barn, it would be warm, I suspected, if it had animals inside, so I climbed over the gate and hid in their barn until the snow subsided.

The animals did not mind me and I settled down and rested. I was caught of course, I awoke to the barrel of a gun pointing at my face.  
>The farmer demanded what I was doing there, and I explained, in all truthfulness, that I was a traveller, bought to a stand still by the snow and that I sought refuge in his barn for the night.<br>He was a kindly old man, short and rounded, well-fed, he decided he would not have me sleep in the barn like an animal, he took my bag and led me into the house, gave me a room and a bed.  
>He offered me work, and, having not heard from any of my people, I decided to stay.<p>

They had pictures of their children, lots of children, most of the boys were away at war, some were business men now, owning inns or shops in the cities. The girls, there were 4 of them, were married, 2 of which had large families of their own.  
>I never realised how adept at breeding humans were.<p>

In the summer, the grown-children would visit and stay for a week or so at a time with their own families, and I would be reminded of my own home, I would feel lonely and outcasted.  
>The farmer would never hear of me leaving them, he would have me stay with the family, have me interact as if I were part of it.<p>

I learned of real relationships this way, I learned that not all humans are deplorable, I learned of real work, and how to sustain a family of over 20 people.  
>Through the wives and daughters I learned humility, I learned that being embarrassed is nothing to be angry about, I learned how to laugh at myself.<p>

In the evenings, I understood peace. I would be full and warm or drunk and stupid, but I  
>would lie down and sleep deeper than I ever had.<p>

The farmstead became a home to me.

Then we heard the war was over, soldiers would be returning. The farmer's wife was happy she may see her sons again, but I could tell the farmer himself doubted they would see their sons again.  
>I had never mentioned to them that I was a soldier, having wanted to forget everything about it, the subject of battle or the military was never a topic of conversation, until after the news.<p>

The farmer's wife was cleaning, dusting and tidying with more fervour than usual. She arranged all the photographs and her smile lingered on the photograph of her five sons, in their uniforms, proud and tall.  
>I hated to think they would be broken men of war... or worse.<br>"A letter would have come to us if anything had happened to them, son."

Often the farmer would say things quietly to me like that, as if he too had the ability to hear thoughts.  
>The wife left the room for the kitchen, singing happily to herself as she went, the farmer sat in the chair across from me, his eyes on me, serious, I had never seen him so serious before.<br>"I know I don't know you so well, you're a quiet lad, and I respect that, but if you've anything untoward to say about the military, you'll be out on your arse before the words have left your mouth."  
>"I don't, sir."<br>"Good. The missus likes you, I like you, you're nice to have around, but if you upset any of my boys when they come home..."  
>"I understand, sir."<br>He stood, smiled and patted my shoulder as he walked past, I could see he knew that I had been in the military, as I believe he may have been once before.

This summer, only two of the sons and their families visited, and as usual they helped in the fields, the work was harder, but we enjoyed it.  
>Every now and again we would hear marching footsteps and a company of soldiers would pass along the dirt road at the front of the farm, we would stop and salute, the sons would cheer.<br>This happened once every couple of days, sometimes they paid us no mind, so we had no need to stop, but every time, the men that passed were scarred and young, but the wars had put years upon them.

The sound of the marching made me remember, I would remember and feel an ache, whether it was for battle, for the fighting, the action, I could not place it, and I would not allow myself to dwell on it.

The day was hot, the boys and the farmer stopped frequently to refresh, but the heat was right for me, I found myself working almost double the pace I would work normally, until the sun began to set, and another group of soldiers came down the path, they were not marching, they were ambling and talking.  
>I was in the far corner of the front field, I could see the group, the commanding officer of it approaching the farm gate, the farmer meeting him there and they talked.<br>I assumed they were asking for directions, which was shameful, and I put them out of my mind to continue working.

I heard then the squeak of the gate's hinges, the soldiers walking in freely, nodding and thanking the farmer as they passed him, sprawling up the path to the house.  
>I felt my stomach sink, the very thing I had wanted to leave was encroaching into this<br>perfect time, it would destroy it, like it had destroyed my life, I would not allow it to take my happiness away again.  
>I ran to the farmer and pulled him aside.<br>"Mr. Kellie..."  
>"Are you alright, son, you look a bit peaky?"<br>"Yes yes, I - I don't think you should let them in..."  
>He raised an eyebrow, that serious gaze returned. "You're not about to tell me to turn them away are you?"<br>"No, sir, please..." I must think of something. "What about the girls, Mrs. Kellie...?"  
>"Charles! I trusted you in my house, a complete stranger, you could have been a murderer, a rapist, a deserter, but I asked no questions and let you in. How could I not do the same with soldiers of the King's army?"<br>I felt shame. "You're right."  
>"Besides..." He raised his voice, so as to catch the attention of the commanding officer. "They're only here for a couple of nights. Isn't that right, Major?"<br>"That's right, sir, two nights, then we'll be out of your way."

The ache returned, along with every burning, wanting thought I had ignored these years.  
>All at his voice. The farmer patted my back.<br>"Alright, Charles?"  
>I found I could not talk, I was unable to move, frozen, unable to turn and face the man who saw me die.<br>"Show some respect, lad."  
>I heard a foot scuff in the dust of the path and a rattle of buckle and leather, I was not facing him but I could see clearly his hand on the handle of his sword, one leg relaxed, slightly ahead of him, his hip jutting aside, I could see every glint of light on the buttons of his uniform without even opening my eyes.<br>I felt a pushing hand at my shoulder, and I turned.  
>"Nice to meet you, major."<br>The farmer smiled, patted my back again and then left for the house to explain our new guests to Mrs. Kellie.

His expression caused my heart to stop, pained, disappointed, confused, scared, i could not dare to place all that I could see within it.  
>"Charlie?"<br>I nodded, I felt shame, a terrible shame so strong I could not meet his eyes. He took a step closer and lowered his voice.  
>"You died."<br>"Yes..."  
>I expected to see horror in his eyes when I looked, but they had a glint of realisation within them, still confused and a little hurt, but they were brighter and I felt a small beat in my chest.<br>"You healed yourself?"  
>I nodded and the hurt was back in his eyes.<br>"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave?"  
>"I... I couldn't be in the guard, Sharpe... it's not - it's not who I am..."<br>He gave a short, humourless laugh.  
>"Oh I see, found your calling with old MacDonald, eh?"<br>I lowered my face.  
>"Don't be cruel, Sharpe."<br>"So who _do_ you think you are?"

I sighed, having no answer, I did not know.  
>My whole life I had given to battle and war, despite how pointless or violent it was, I knew I could fight, and that's all I did. That's all I knew.<br>Then I knew love... and war destroyed that, it destroyed my love, my life. It has destroyed me.  
>Sharpe looked at me for an answer, having none, he shook his head and left me, joining the others in the house, I avoided him for the rest of the day.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

I entered the kitchen late that evening, when I was sure that everyone had retired to bed, I could hear someone going about the kitchen, it was Mrs. Kellie, as she is always the last to bed after supper.  
>"Need a hand, Mrs. Kellie?"<br>"Oh no dear, and call me Iris. I've saved you some supper." She covered her hands with a towel and bought out of the oven a large plate, brimming with food. "Bill says you worked in double-time today, you'll need to keep up your strength."  
>I felt humbled and sat at the table, she laid the plate in front of me and handed me a fork.<br>"Thank you, Iris."  
>She smiled. "I'll leave you to tidy up, if that's alright?"<br>"Of course, thanks again."  
>She wiped her hands once more and left the kitchen. "Oh, good evening, major."<br>"Ma'am."

Sharpe nodded once to Mrs. Kellie as she left and pushed the door shut behind him, he then crossed his arms and leant against it.  
>As I watched him consider his words, I noticed the pale stains of blood on his shirt, and under it, fresh bandages, with fresh blood on them. My heart had stopped and I hated myself, I hated that he would have more scars, more terrible memories because of me.<p>

When he raised his head and I saw his eyes, those pained, swimming blue eyes, I stood. I knew he would apologise, but had nothing to apologise for, he opened his mouth to speak but stopped at my advance.

I held his shirt collar in both hands and tore it from him, he made some noise of surprise, then laughed.

"Missed me then, eh?"

His humour falls when I make no other move. There are so many new scars on him, fresh and pink, I touched at them, and I could feel the futility of them, how they could have been avoided had I been stronger and stayed.

"Charlie...?"

I pull at a bandage from his bicep, a bullet must've just glanced his arm, he pulls away when I try to rest my hand on it.

"What're you doing?"

"Please, let me..."

I am not surprised that he doesn't trust me now and feel a deep relief when he sighs, turning slightly as I reach forward, a hiss in pain is all he does as I rest my palm over the wound.

This time I don't distract him from the small glow, he watches and the light reflects in his eyes, they grow wider when I pull my hand away and the wound is gone.

I feel his eyes on me as I wipe the blood away and I hesitantly meet his gaze, and there is no fear in them, there is wonder, curiosity, and that spark I had missed.

"I'm sorry, Sharpe."

"Do it again."

His gaze is intense as one hand takes mine and his other pulls the bandage from his shoulder, replacing it with my hand, wincing slightly at the contact.

His hand trails up my arm and guides my face to him, kissing me with the softest of sighs.

"I can't do this again."

He smiled and my chest constricted, that lop-sided, stupid smile. He kissed me again and I found myself helpless, my resolve melted, my entire being aching for him and when his tongue touches mine, my heart jolts and beats as if it only beat for him, tenfold for his return.

I could feel his skin rising in bumps as his wound finishes healing and I pull my fingers away, dropping them to the last bandage. He gasps against my mouth as I pull the bandage from the large wound in his side and both his hands move, one moving around my neck, holding me closer while deepening the kiss, the other at my waist, untucking my shirt.

I let the bandage fall, pulling back to inspect the wound, it was messy and deep, my heart sank, but he was ignorant to my upset and he kissed me again, desperate now and he groans in annoyance as I push his shoulder to the door to still him.  
>He pushes both my hands from him and pushes forward, his hands on my face as he kisses hungrily, I stumble backwards, crashing into the table, the scrape of it's feet on the floor was painfully loud.<p>

He freezes, biting his lip and looking up, eyes roaming around the ceiling, he laughs and meets my eyes. His are bright with mischief, pupils wide with arousal.

"D'you think someone heard that?"

"Sharpe, if I don't heal that -"

He kissed me again, insistent and hot, broken in many places for his need to breathe. His tongue sweeps mine and I almost forget everything, he pushes himself between my legs and presses close.

"You've got to stop..."

"Shan't."

His hands push into my breeches and I cannot stop my shout, all thoughts melted away at his touch, the heat of his hands sending pleasure through me, his panting hot breaths now against my neck, my hands around his shoulders, burying my fingers in the damp hairs at his neck.

"Gods, Sharpe!"

He mutters something through a gasp and his strokes quicken, almost as fast as my heartbeat, so loud and strong it was the only thing I could hear, I could even smell it as if it were running freely.

Too late I realised the smell was not my blood.


End file.
